


Gunpowder and Fresh Cotton

by serpentunder_t



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4397006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentunder_t/pseuds/serpentunder_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie finds Monroe passed out in her hallway<br/>aka<br/>I got up at 2 am and opened my door to find you trying to sleep on the floor of the hallway because your roommate has his girlfriend over AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunpowder and Fresh Cotton

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still pretty new to fanfiction and this is un-beta'd so please be kind!
> 
> Charlie and Monroe are going to be the death of me.

Charlie tossed and turned in the Texan heat, unable to find solace in sleep. Finally after what had felt like hours she swept her sweaty hair out of her face and crawled out of bed, intent on finding some whiskey and drinking it until sleep found her.  
Tip toeing across her room, she slowly opened her door, wincing as it creaked. She’d only made it a few steps before her foot sunk into something. “OW! Fucking hell.”

The lump was moving, clutching at its stomach, while Charlie’s eyes were still trying to adjust to the darkness and her hands were reaching for the gun that was not currently holstered at her side.  
  
“Dammit Charlie, warn a brother why dontcha?”  
  
“Monroe?” The confusion was clear in her voice. But as Monroe sat up he knocked something over and she heard the glass clink and liquid squishing, reminding her of her original mission. Reaching for the bottle she huffed, “whatever”.  
  
“Hey! Wait that’s mine!” Charlie just gave him one of her looks, which he was thankful he couldn’t fully make out in the dark.  
  
“What’re you doing here anyway?”

“Oh, well, I, you know.” Bass muttered, making vague hand gestures. But before Charlie could press him for more information, one of his hand gestures resulted in knocking over a stack of books that had taken up residence in the small hallway.

Both flinching at the loud noise in the quiet air, Charlie quickly hauled him up and herded him into her room, out of the line of fire if anyone woke up.

They stood there, breathing heavily behind her closed door as they heard Gene get up, cock his gun, and investigate. After clearing the house, he went back to bed, and Bass let out a long sigh of relief.  
  
But before he could even reach for his bottle of whiskey, Charlie had turned on him. “So why the hell are you here? What happened? Is Miles okay?” Her questions where coming so fast that he could barely tell where one ended and another began.

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, “Charlie, calm down. Everything is okay. Miles is okay. Hell he’s better than okay. I just couldn’t sleep there tonight, but everything’s fine, I swear.”  
  
Charlie looked at him with a look that could send lesser men crying back to their mothers. “Why?” The ice in the single syllable was enough to make even Bass shiver in the Texan heat. She had that ability, to assert herself, to make even those in power question themselves. She commanded. It was what she did. A room, herself, an army even. He could respect it, hell he even admired it, except for when she turned it on him.

He ran a hand over his sleep slacked face, “Miles had a visitor.” When Charlie’s stare didn’t stray he continued, “You know, biblically.” He watched as understanding dawned on her. He lips made a small O and for the life of him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Rachel.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yup.”

“Okay, you can stay. Just don’t let Gene find you. He’s mad enough as it is.” She moved to sit on her bed, taking a deep swig of the whiskey, before extending it to Bass. Taking the bottle from her small, but well-worn hand, he sat next to her on the twin bed.

  
  
They went like that for a while, passing the bottle in silence. Bass could feel the alcohol, but he’d also had a great deal just before dozing off in the hallway. Charlie on the other hand, seemed unaffected. If anything, more annoyed than buzzed.

“Why were you up at 2 in the morning?” Bass asked, breaking the silence.

“Couldn’t sleep. I went looking for this” She said, shaking the bottle between them. “This heat is fucking killing me.”

Bass let out a low chuckle.

“What?”

“It’s just, I rarely hear you swear. It suits you.”

At that Charlie actually smiled. “Yeah, my Dad didn’t like swearing, and then Maggie didn’t either, and I just I assumed Rachel wouldn’t like it much either.” She said, shrugging.

“You should do it more often.  I’d pay good money to see the look on Rachel’s face.” They were both laughing when Bass glanced over at the young woman giggling beside him. She was beautiful. Her eyes were shinning with mischief, and he loved it. He’d rarely seen her smile, let alone laugh. It had only been during the war with the Patriots, when she had tagged alone with him and Miles on missions that he’d started to see the other side of her. The woman she could’ve been if he hadn’t destroyed her entire family and her life hadn’t been irreversibly stained by bloodshed.

Charlie was an excellent fighter, she could even give him and Miles a good run for their money. And was easily worth 5 of those Patriots dicks any day. But she was also snarky, sarcastic in a way that reminded him so damn much of Miles. It was only through living on the road with her and Miles for months that he also learned that she was compassionate. She kept it hidden well, but after a particularly brutal ambush by the Patriots, she’d come back to their tiny camp covered in red white and blue blood and ran straight to Miles, who had taken a shot to his leg. She’d ripped off her over shirt, tearing it apart and bandaging the wound. Then she’d seen him, clutching his head. Charlie had taken care of both of them that night. After that, things changed. She stopped acting like she hated him all the time, and he’d grown to see her as more than just another soldier.

 

They lapsed back into silence, the heat seeping into their muscles like the whiskey in their bloodstream. Charlie yawned, and moved to rest her head on Bass’s shoulder.  
“Thanks for the whiskey, and everything, by the way.”

“And everything? You mean sneaking into your house because I don’t trust my neighbors not to try to kill ‘President Monroe’ if they found him passed out outside?”

“No, for sneaking into my house and saving me from jumping out the window just to feel a fucking breeze.” Charlie enunciated ‘fucking’ as she looked up at Bass, seeing his smile at the word.  
Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was the heat, but it was definitely not of her own fully informed decision making skills that she nuzzled her head farther into his neck and smiled. He smelled of leather, whiskey, sweat, and those hand rolled cigarettes he and Miles thought she didn’t know about.  
Bass hesitantly rose his arm around the small woman beside him, drawing her closer into him. They stayed like that until Charlie started to nod off.

“Okay, come on girl, you’ve got to get some sleep.” Bass untangled himself from around her, and pushing her hair back from her face as he spoke. She stood, stretching out like a cat, and Bass became acutely aware of what she was wearing. A sweat stained tank top that allowed the shape of her nipples to show through the tight fabric and a pair of plain black panties that highlighted her long toned legs.  
Charlie was crawling into bed as Bass turned to leave.

“What’re you doing?” Her voice was heavy with alcohol and sleep.

“Leaving.”  
  
“Why?” He turned to look at her, not quite sure what to make of her at that moment. “Come on Bass, you can’t go home, you can’t sleep in the hallway, where’re you gonna go?”

“I’ll find somewhere, don’t worry about me Darlin’.” He said in his best mock southern drawl.

“You big dumbass. Just come lay down. I promise I’ll behave.” He knew she was joking about the last part, but damn if it didn’t strike a chord somewhere below his belt.

Huffing he moved back toward the bed, stripping off his shirt.

“Oh hell no.”

“What?” He asked in confusion. “You told me to stay?”  
  
“You are not wearing your fucking boots to bed. They are filthy. And there is no way those jeans are comfortable to sleep in. Come on.” She was taunting him, rolling her eyes and loving every moment of his disbelief. She’d seen him naked plenty of times, and she’d even shared a bed with him before, but those had been while they’d been on the road. It was survival, mostly. She couldn’t be serious.  
But one look at her face told Bass that she was very serious, and also half asleep. Smiling to himself he tore off his boots and stripped down to his boxer briefs before climbing into the tiny bed next to her.

“What will Gene think if he finds you shacked up with a half-naked ‘President Monroe’?”

At that Charlie laughed, fitting herself beside his hard lean body. “Maybe he’ll think you’re the one who’s been stealing his whiskey for the past two months.”

Bass pinched her, and she nipped at his arm. Their playful banter continuing until finally Charlie could barely keep her eyes open.

“Goodnight Bass.” She spoke with the slur of sleep as she closed the distance between their lips. It was soft and sweet and tender, she pulled away far too quickly for Bass’ liking. He heard her breathing change as she drifted to sleep in his arms.

He knew that tomorrow they’d have to talk about it, or at least deal with it one way or the other. But tonight he was content to bury his nose in her hair and drift to sleep to the slight smell of gunpowder and fresh cotton.  
  
“Goodnight Charlotte.”


End file.
